


Sweet Nothings

by sarahxxxlovey



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahxxxlovey/pseuds/sarahxxxlovey
Summary: Ezri and Jean share a small moment in their hammock. Mid "Red Seas Under Red Skies"





	Sweet Nothings

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this book today and let me just tell you - idk if it's the hormones or the writing or the character but that book had me bawling. Yikes.

“Remember that first night?” Ezri mused, her body warm against Jean’s in the comfort of the space now deemed theirs. Their abandoned tunics and breeches lay on the floor, content to slide occasionally with the rocking of the sea as they swung along in their hammock.

The glow of slightly intoxicated sex had come upon him now, his tired muscles slack and his brain empty aside from feelings of contentment. They'd snuck a bottle of brandy into bed with them, the salt and the sweat and the alcohol filling the quarters with the smell of her. He wondered if he'd ever be able to disassociate the booze from her now. It was the same they had been drinking that first night; the taste of the blackberry on her lips made him nostalgic for a time that was only weeks ago. 

He looked down and started playing with her hair, allowing himself a moment to ponder their relationship.

“Mm,” Jean lazily mumbled his reply, content to bask in the glow of their alchemical light and love making but loving the sound of her voice too much to tell her to shut up. He scratched his fingers against her scalp and grinned at the contended sigh she gave as she snuggled closer to him. His years with Locke had made him accustomed to feeling much larger than his company, but somehow she still seemed tiny against him, all muscle and bone and grit wrapped up in the best sort of package. 

“Do you think you’d ever have grown the balls to make the move yourself?” she joked softly.

“Quoting playwrights and obscure literature would have done the trick eventually, love," he noted, “Plus, I seem to recall you barely being able to stand on your own. I had to carry you to the hammock and be extra gentle with you.”

“It was for your sensitive male pride, you see,” she mock-fluttered her eyelashes as she countered his comment in hushed, conspiratorial tones, “I didn’t want your wounded manhood to keep your sails at half-mast.”

He chuckled and found himself grinning at the smile she gave back, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him with glowing eyes.

The thought of her made him warm all over and even now, with every night spent beside her for a month, he found himself at a loss for words sometimes at the sight of her. He found it hard to remember what life felt like before her. He had said it to her before and she had laughed it off with a sarcastic retort, but the moment he said it, he knew the words rang true. What _did_ he do before her? He found it hard to remember what his heart felt before she quipped Lucarno in his direction.

Losing Galdo and Calo and Bug had left a pit in his heart that seemed larger than fillable at some points, but he hadn’t remembered emotion like this in his entire existence. The thought of her filled all his passing moments. He woke up next to her and still yearned for her to be closer. She had worn down his inhibitions, his prude-for-a-pirate-ship manner dissipated even more greatly with each moment that he spent listening to her moans in his ear.

She asked if he remembered that first night but in truth, it never left him. The moonlight in her eyes every night made him remember her looking hopefully up at him, her expression filled with desire and her mouth readily waiting to be kissed. The brandy that his peers passed to him brought his thoughts to how he kissed down her neck to make her shiver and his blood uncomfortably south, the smell of the alcohol switching something in his brain that associated it with her, with their heated moments alone. Any warmth that he experienced wasn't as warm as her weight on top of him, her back arching and her voice breathing his name.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Her words brought him back to the moment suddenly and he shifted, pulling her closer to him. 

“ _You_ have my tongue and my heart and every spare thought in my brain,” he admitted.

He watched every millisecond of movement on her face carefully. He saw the exact moment when she melted slightly and then geared back up to tease him again. Her wit and her genuineness, they had to be two of the things he loved most about her.

“Gods, these lines,” she teased, throwing an eye roll his direction before kissing him soundly, "You really do belong in that flatterer's cage." 

"Guilty as charged, lieutenant."

“I’m glad you’re mine, Jean Tannen,” she said against his lips. "All mine."

“I love you,” he said softly back before rolling on top of her and dissolving into her fit of giggles.


End file.
